


Orlesian Countryside

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders. Hawke. Orlesian hunt. Thunderstorm. Tent sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orlesian Countryside

The rain came suddenly and by the time they had put up Hawke's tent and crawled inside, they were soaked to the bone. It was just one more inconvenient thing on a long line of inconvenient things about this hunt.

"Stupid Orlesian culture," Hawke sputtered. He pulled off his boots, tossing them to the side.

"Stupid Orlais," Anders agreed. The erratic changes in weather were just another reason to hate the country.

The rain increased, pounding harder on the canvas. Anders peeled off his coat, his undershirt the only thing not dripping wet. He'd agreed to come to Orlais with Hawke for a banquet. It was only when they'd reached the duke's estate that he heard about the hunt. So he and Hawke took up bows and arrows – though Anders swore if they stumbled across their kill, he'd sooner hit it with a fireball – and were off.

At least they'd planned on being out in the forest for a day or two and thank the Maker for small favors, they had a tent. Anders watched as Hawke undressed, breath hitching a little.

"You're getting naked?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Hawke grinned. "Nothing you haven't seen before, Anders. Don't worry, I'll keep my hands to myself."

_But what if I don't want you to?_

He kept his eyes carefully averted as Hawke removed his smallclothes, laying everything out in the corner the best he could. Anders undressed as well, leaving on undershirt and smalls, not trusting himself to be naked in a tent with an equally naked Hawke. He helped shake out the two bedrolls and lay down. Unfortunately, seeing as how it was still early evening despite how dark it was outside already, he wasn't the least bit tired.

"Hey, Anders?"

"Mm?"

He could feel Hawke lying next to him. And while they'd never shared a bed before, Anders had imagined himself in this position many times.

"Did you ever think it would be like this?"

"Be like what?"

"Turn over, I can barely hear you. I'm trying to be nostalgic."

Anders shifted to his other side to see Hawke lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, looking up at the tent ceiling. He hadn't bothered to pull a blanket up and through the dimness, Anders could see him. All of him. Even soft, Hawke's cock was impressive. Or maybe it was just the last year and a half of thinking about it that made it seem that way now he saw it. Anders quickly looked away. It wasn't a good idea. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever.

"Better," Hawke said. "Us. This. The group. Years ago when we met."

"You mean when you burst into my clinic demanding maps for the Deep Roads?" Anders asked. "No, I never imagined we'd go from there to being trapped in a cramped tent in the Orlesian countryside."

"Well we're not trapped," Hawke reasoned. "We could always go trudging back through the forest to find the estate, I suppose."

Lightning flashed overhead, a crack of thunder.

"Or not," Anders said.

"Or not," Hawke agreed.

They made casual conversation for a while, discussing what had happened over the last few years, their accomplishments, the friends they'd made along the way. Anders fell asleep mid-conversation, only to wake some hours later. The rain continued to beat a pattern against the canvas, but something was different. He felt a warm breath against the back of his neck, a heavy arm around his waist. It took him a moment to realize that Hawke had turned and was casually spooning him.

Maker, he really didn't need this. He closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep when he felt it. Hawke's erection pressing against the small of his back. His own cock stirred interestedly and he tried to concentrate on other things. So Hawke was having a good dream. Anders could shove him away, wake him up. Make some dirty comment. No doubt that's what Varric would do if he were in Anders' situation. Then Hawke would roll over, maybe apologize, and go back to sleep. And things would be fine in the morning.

"Ngh."

Hawke shifted, pulling him closer. Anders sucked in a breath. Hawke's hand, large and calloused, was splayed on his stomach, rubbing absently through the thin linen of his shirt. Anders looked down, his smallclothes tenting, the fabric straining. Wincing a little, he pushed them down over his hips, barely lifting up, trying not to disturb Hawke.

"Oh," he whispered.

Hawke thrust his hips a bit, and Anders inched up. Hawke's prick was pressing against his ass. He felt it, hard and hot, moving slowly, thrusting gently. Heat pooled in his groin and he pushed his smalls down even further, slipping out of them. Could he still attest this all to a dream, should Hawke awake? Would the other man be convinced that he'd been unconscious the entire time? Would he believe him or would he be furious?

He couldn't do this. "Hawke," he whispered.

His friendship meant too much.

"Hawke," he tried again.

Silence, then: "Please."

A whispered breath, so quiet that Anders thought he imagined it. Stomach fluttering, head spinning, he replied. "Yes."

Hawke's hand moved from Anders' stomach down to wrap around his cock, and Anders moaned. He pushed back against him and they rocked together slowly. Hawke's breath came out in gasps against his neck, then his ear as he placed gentle kisses just behind it.

Anders didn't talk, couldn't talk. If he said anything, he might wake up, and this was clearly a dream. The hot friction was almost chafing, but he didn't care. He reached down, gripping Hawke's hand, urging him to continue. Hawke slipped a thigh between Anders' legs and Anders moved faster, moaning wantonly, riding it, imagining what it would be like for Hawke to fuck him.

He came first, spilling over his hand and Hawke's, gasping for breath. Two more thrusts and he felt the familiar wetness over the back of his thighs. It cooled quickly and he squirmed.

Hawke shifted a bit from behind him, Anders missing the warmth immediately. Would it be awkward now? The talk of what they'd done? Would Hawke say it was a mistake? Or worse, would he admit that he just used Anders? He'd been horny and needy and Isabela wasn't around? Anders shivered when Hawke came back, and he sighed as a soft cloth wiped away the mess on his thighs. He removed his own undershirt, cleaning off his hand before tossing it to the corner.

Hawke laid down next to him again, arm around him, blankets up.

Silence now save for the tatting of rain on the roof of the tent.

"Hawke?"

"Mm."

"It wasn't a dream."

"Maker, I hope not," came Hawke's tired voice. "Been waiting to do that for a year now."

Anders let out a half-laugh, half-gasp as Hawke pulled him close, kissing his shoulder. "So…"

"We'll figure it out in the morning."

Hawke slid a leg over Anders, and Anders shifted to his back. A moment of fumbling and they were comfortable again, Hawke curled around him like an octopus, head nestled on his chest. Anders ran his fingers idly through Hawke's hair, other hand laying gently on the arm that held him so possessively.

He decided that he might like Orlais after all.


End file.
